The D&W
by Kaoz
Summary: The Winchesters thought they'd lost all ties to the Campbell's with Samuel's death. Turns out there was another branch to the Campbell tree that even old Samuel was unaware of.
1. The Hunt

**_AN:_** **_I'm making this a two chapter fic because its been sitting in my computer for some weeks now and we all know that's not a safe place -tech kryptonite- that's me. _**

**_Reviews are welcome, they make me happy though I'd rather avoid the flames so if you don't like it ... feel free to keep moving. Love all those who have something constructive to say and thanks for the help._**

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><p>It was only right.<p>

It was fair.

Every one of them…they deserved to die.

**D&W**

"So … its ghost hunting then?" Asher looks from Tëmpe to Bhaze, dark eyebrows raised as he lies back on the hotel bed. There's papers strewn about on the coverlet all around him, newspaper clippings… the bright screen of his lap top has some gory pictures displayed. He's used to that now, the past three years have been nothing _but_ hunting and while he hasn't become quite immune to the things he sees, he doesn't want to upchuck at every single one he does.

"Mmmm." Tëmpeztrà purses her dusky lips and frowns at the images on her lap top. "I don't think so…"

"It's not lining up." Bhaze agrees which is what Asher had been thinking as well. "Alright. We need a break." He stands up and stretches both arms over his head while Asher sits up in preparation of heading out of their hotel room only Tëmpe's frowning at them.

"You had a break." Tëmpe points out sharply. "An hour ago- you're heading back to the bar." She rolls her eyes and starts gathering the sheets on the small table she's been working at. The red paint is chipped in places and she's already found a tiny carved smiley face currently covered up by her lap top. It's an old table with plenty of character and right now Tëmpeztrà is seriously considering hitting her brother with it. She can lift it.

"We aren't getting anything else done tonight." Bhaze motions his cousin to head for the door while Tëmpe slaps the papers in her hand on the table and stands. "You could-."

"Go and watch you two pick up some busty booze poisoned bedussy's you'll be lucky not to end up taking medication to get rid of whatever disease they give you and you know what." She draws a breath and crosses her arms, glaring at both guys. "I hope your dicks fall off."

"Wha-ah…" Bhaze can't believe he just heard….

"Dicks." Asher repeats between chuckles. "Falling off."

Tëmpeztrà isn't finding it funny but hurting them before they finish the hunt isn't an option. So, she turns around and the bathroom door slams shut on them.

"I think she's mad at you." Asher snorts a laugh.

"Bedussy?" Bhaze frowns but when he looks at his cousin only gets a shrug for explanation.

"Wanna ask her?" Asher points to the bathroom as the water comes on.

"Shut up." He shakes his head and grumbles under his breath about how she's always making up new words and he swears it's only to confuzle him. "Let's go." Bhaze shoves Asher towards the door and hopes his sister is in a better mood once they do get back from the bar. _'Dick still in place.'_

**D&W**

This one has a bathtub. It's bright yellow but its deep and Tëmpe just lays the little wash cloth over her eyes to block out the blinding color. She's pissed at the guys for leaving in the middle of the research but to tell the truth she can't see where the dead connect to each other.

"Aside from the missing organs…" her voice echoes in the bathroom. She goes over it once again; the bodies all have the heart missing but no signs of it being removed. No cuts, no surgical incision, no animal jaws or even torn skin, not a thing. It's not a werewolf because there's no full moon at any of the six bodies so far and she's going with the assumption that it's not over. Aside from them dying and missing a heart, the victims are of varying ages and walks of life.

A school teacher two years from retirement.

A small business owner, middle aged man taking over the family business.

A bartender and a diner waitress.

The youngest, a college grad and the last, a male caregiver.

"Even their professions don't tie in!" the wash cloth flies towards the wall and lands with a splat in the bathtub. She leaves it and sinks under blowing out her air and waits a long second before coming up. The boys have gone out for some fun and she's soaking in hot water…

"Not even close to being fair."

**D&W**

Sam pushes the empty container aside. He's disgusted with the pig-sty their room has become but refuses to clean up after his brother. There's one too many bacon burger wrappers…

"Sammy!" Dean calls as he exits the bathroom and starts for the door. "Come on. Times a wastin' here."

"Did Bobby say how we're supposed to kill this thing?" Sam grabs his gun and slips it in the back of his jeans.

"He'd have to know for sure what it was." Dean opens the door and looks impatient which Sam could care less about. It's only a bar and there's plenty of those so Dean isn't missing anything he can't find in the next bar down the road tomorrow or the week after when they hit the road again.

"We already know what it isn't. So whatever is left has to be our … fugly." Sam grimaces at the use of Dean's favorite expression but what else are they going to call these things?

"And what exactly do we have left, Sam?" the door closes behind them and the night is chilly enough Dean has pulled out John's leather jacket. It's been a while since he's even wanted to look at the damn thing but … "The victims have nothing in common besides the missing hearts. There's no full moon at any of the attacks. No sign of how the hearts were removed… I mean," Dean shrugs, his arms come to rest on the hood of the Impala and he stares across at Sam.

"We have no leads. I get it…but," Sam looks away first, at the parked cars in the lot and starts wonder again what the hell they're doing… "Leviathan." He looks at Dean again, hazel eyes on full puppy dog blast but then, this is _Dean._ He's got a higher resistance to it than regular civilians.

"Krap." Dean breathes out and shakes his head. What the hell can they do? All they've got so far is an allergy to sodium borate and not much else but keeping the severed heads as far away from the body as possible. But that doesn't mean they're dead. "We work the cases that come up, Sam." He gets in the Impala and starts her up. The engines purr eases his anxiety just a little and though it's been a little over a year since the whole Leviathan doubles screwed him and Sam, his baby's had to undergo a slight change in order to break out of lock down. She isn't black but the closets thing to it; a dark charcoal grey and damn who ever says its not much different from black because he isn't going any lighter with his baby.

**D&W**

Tëmpeztrà is stuck playing at _Lois Lane_ thanks to her youthful appearance. She can't pull off a detective because she'd get quizzed too damn much and never get around to finding out anything useful. They've both shot down her FBI attempt but only because no one would ever believe such a young 'girl' (the idiots) would even get to carry a badge. Sometimes, Tëmpe doesn't find her Mother's good looks such a great advantage but they're all hers now and she's learned to use what's at her disposal.

"_Daily Planet_ my ass." But she sure as hell plays the girly card when its convenient.

She's going to deck them if they insist on teasing her… Tëmpe heads up the front walkway to the covered porch. She's in heels and slacks that are too thin by far in this cold weather. The navy trench coat comes in handy yet again- a gift from Aspen just before… _'Before she stopped taking our side against Luke.'_

Tëmpe wouldn't blame her for never speaking to either Bhaze or herself but it isn't fair to Asher though the dummy made his choice.

It isn't time to think of family issues so she focuses on the door and the creepy weird knocker. The ring hangs from a beak and the brass makes a haunting echo that gives her a sudden chill. Tëmpeztrà stares at it; trying to figure out why it's bugging her aside from being fugly-

The door opens and a tall man in slacks wearing a brown turtle neck and loafers stands there. His hair is smattered with gray and his eyes are framed in thin glasses.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you Mr. Thoern." Tëmpe pulls out her press credentials and introduces herself with the same lie she's told three other people grieving for the victims. "I'd like just a moment of your time…"

Isaac Thoern lets her in and the house is beautiful inside as it was out.

"It's been in my family five generations now." Isaac replies in answer to her comment, he heads out of the foyer and into the large living area he calls the family room. It's got all the classic architecture of an Acadian home built back in the late 1800s or close to it. She can see where it's been modernized and noticing her interest, Isaac points out all the things he hasn't removed. They move around the house, from the living room to the formal dining area and out to the lanai. Tëmpe looks across to the study and Isaac motions her ahead of him; all the while she's wondering why he isn't visibly upset about the deaths. Lane Franze had been his employee; 'assistant'.

"And this?" Tëmpeztrà stops in front of a side table bearing a vase and a wood panel; it's carved with the image of a man and bird. Both somehow seem to be one and she tilts her head studying it.

"That is _Kâ'lanû Ahkyeli'skï._" Isaac looks up at the panel, its wood dark with age and hides the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

_'The Raven Mocker…oh bull…krap!'_

"Who?" Tëmpe doesn't have to fake the little frown on her face when she turns to him because now she's got her fugly and wouldn't it just be her luck to not have the right weapon on hand for just this sort of creep? She's trying to think of how fast they could find one and then how it is they'd go about tracking the _Raven Mocker_-

"It's a Cherokee legend." Isaac gently leads Tëmpe to the leather chairs next to the fire place and sits. "The _Raven Mocker _is considered evil; they kill the sick or dying and take their remaining years for their own. And there are those who believe the raven is just a symbol of gratitude, wisdom, hope…" he shrugs.

"Wow." Tëmpeztrà knows the legends; she's read them all thanks to the writing of _P.C. Cast _and her _House of Night_ novels though Tëmpe's long since gotten tired of them (the rambling gets tedious in between the fits of 'action'). But that left her with a healthy doze of curiosity in Native American lore… "Ghost stories, huh?" she feigns idiocy and her words draw a frown to his face.

"Legends." Isaac corrects. "Everything we _think_ to be a story has to be based on facts. _Kâ'lanû Ahkyeli'skï_ is no exception. This is a very big planet Ms. Wyatt. It's arrogant of us to think we are the only ones to walk it…but you are here for Lane." Isaac's hands leave the chair and clasp in his lap, dark eyes resting on her.

"Right." Tëmpeztrà pulls out her 'fancy' notebook (really, it's just a leather bound book with blank pages she's had for years) and a pen. Her hand moves lightly over the sheet where she's putting out a rough sketch of the wood carving. "How long did Mr. Franze work for you?" it's the start of a long hour she wishes was over with because she's itching to get a search started on Raven Mocker killer weapons which would be a lot easier if they were sold on _eBay_ but what the hell.

**D&W**

Sam rubs his eyes and sits back. It's been hours and hours of reading through dozens of search engines trying to figure out what could remove the hearts of the victims without leaving any sign of it-

"Anything?" Dean lets the hotel room door close behind him and plops down the bags of food he's brought in. He reaches across for the lap top and sits while Sam grabs his own greasy bag with a suffering sigh but he starts eating. "Huh?"

"What?" Sam leans across and Dean waves him off.

"What are you …?" he clicks on the pad and then turns the lap top so Sam has a view of the picture and the article. "_Raven Mocker_?" a blond eyebrow is raised in mocking question. "You reading girly books, Sammy? This…" he glances at the screen again and snorts. "_House of Night_ series." He laughs.

"I'm looking for anything that could remove the hearts of the victims without leaving a mark on the bodies." Sam retorts with a huff and grabs for his lap top. Dean smacks his hands away and points to the half opened bag of food.

"Eat. I'll read." Dean chuckles again but reads the article and soon the smile has become a frown. "Huh."

"What, huh." Sam looks up from his unappetizing burger.

"Yahtzee."

"_Raven Mocker…_ Really?" Sam blinks. He reads the highlighted portion of the article and looks up at his brother. "Huh."

"Now we gotta find out how to kill it and where it's going to next." Dean rips open his own bag and plucks a fry. "Told ya I'd figure this out." He smirks when Sam opens his mouth to protest because the last seven hours it's been _Sam_ at the computer but… what's the point of arguing when that's exactly what his brother was looking for.

Sam grabs his own fries and keeps eating.

**D&W**

Bhaze makes her tell them again and this time Tëmpe pulls out her cell phone and lets him hear the 'interview' she never mentioned to Isaac Thoern was being recorded and ignores her brothers scowl.

"You could've said so from the start, Tëmpeztrà." Bhaze growls and grabs the cell to sit on his bed and listen.

"He didn't get laid-."

"TMI!" Tëmpe holds up a hand and frowns at her cousin. "Jeez, like I need to know where your dip-sticks have been." She shakes her head sitting at the table and removes her heels. She wiggles her toes and grabs the fuzzy socks her cousin is holding in front of her. "I'd like to see you wearing heels in this weather." She grumbles at his smirk then pulls on the socks with relief.

"Can't believe it took you four interviews before you found our 'bad guy', Tëmps." Asher grins, legs stretched out in front as he leans back in the matching chair. "You're slipping, coz."

"Ha, ha." Tëmpe gets up and quickly shoves Asher back so he topples onto the carpet with a curse and she's laughing. "You keep being such an easy target."

Asher rolls up and lunges for his cousin but she runs and they're jumping across the room like children in less than five seconds while Bhaze's demands that they stop. As one, both jump on the second bed and smother Bhaze who yells at them to get off. He's ignored and finally Bhaze starts grabbing at limbs and they're all laughing…

Asher and Bhaze are only a few months apart in age and though it shouldn't make a difference Bhaze has always taken on the role of the eldest. It's easy because Asher is way laid back and fun loving to take responsibility for long. They both tend to be over protective of Tëmpeztrà simply because she's the youngest and then there's that whole 'girl thing' she hates having tossed back at her. Most times Bhaze just accepts that he's responsible for them both; Asher for being so new to hunting and Tëmpe because she's all that's left of his parents. It's been the three of them the last four years even with Asher still at university finishing his degree. They have an architect hunting by their side and a new home they can go back to. One his sister loves to decorate for the holidays…

"Alright!" Tëmpe yells as she rolls out of the pile and yelps when she lands on the floor. "You dummies!"

"Hey, you rolled yourself onto the floor." Asher laughs as his cousin sits up, her head just above the edge of the bed, smoky eyes narrowed.

"I'm gonna roll you off." She grumbles but stands and tugs on her blouse making huffy sounds that just set them both off in to fits of laughter all over again. "See? This, _this _is why I'm always smacking you guys." She grabs the pillow and makes her point.

"Ow! Oh…" but they keep laughing and Tëmpe gives up. She flops onto the bed with them and stares up at the ceiling, lips pulling into a smile. Times like these is when she knows life is good. She's not alone and the guys are her family, they get each other and she loves them…

"Okay," Asher concedes. "Ok, no more breaks, children. We have work to do."

Bhaze snorts, moves his leg and kicks at his cousin who slides half off the bed.

"What'd I say?" Asher complains as he tries to pull his torso back onto the bed and then decides it's easier to fall off and does so.

"We need a weapon." Tëmpe sighs. "And I'm going with something Native American because it is one of their Spirits."

"We aren't far from the reservation." Bhaze lies back, the pillow once more scrunched up under his head. "But we don't know how to track it."

"Or where it's going to kill next." Asher adds from the floor.

Tëmpeztrà covers her face and blows out a breath. "You two," she half sits and frowns at them. "We're Hunters and that means we-."

"Hunt?" Asher cuts in chuckling and gets a pillow in his face. "Ok."

"You go to the Res." Tëmpe orders. "Bhaze and I will go over the crime scenes again, check their homes and workplaces. Something is going to stand out that's going to lead us right to the _Raven Mocker._"

Bhaze lifts his head from the pillow and looks at his sister.

"You're bossy."

"I concur." Asher's hand comes up from the floor.

**D&W**

Dean pulls up to the UPS office and Sam goes in to retrieve the package Bobby overnighted to them. They're still trying to figure out how to track this bird man, who it's going for next because according to the legends they target the sick and the dying. That's just too many people in a hospital for the Winchesters to protect and the only victim with ties to the medical field died in his home. Sam insists it's got to do with the victims but none of them were terminally ill, their jobs have nothing in common, they really have nothing that ties them together and it's not like this is their first hunt so Dean is getting sick of this invisible pattern he isn't picking up.

Sam comes out with the cylinder in hand. He glances around and heads toward the Impala still concerned someone is going to recognize them and start yelling bloody murder in the middle of the street. They had a close call back in _Lily Dale_ with all those psychics… the door closes and Dean grabs at the package and ends up with the top.

"They're arrows." Sam pulls one out carefully and hands it over to his brother. "Head shots." He plucks the note out and holds it out for Dean.

Bobby's writing is clear enough and so is the note. Dean looks up at Sam. "He say anything about how to track it?"

**D&W**

Tëmpe's sitting in the middle of the bed, crime scene pictures scattered all around her and a bio for each victim. She's already crossed off the birthdates and ages. Their ethnicity doesn't seem to matter much though they are primarily Caucasian. She can't see where any of these people have met even if they all lived in the same town. Tëmpe figures the bartender likely had contact with Lane and the waitress being that they were all younger. The waitress could've had contact with the teacher and the business owner, maybe waited on them during one shift or another. But that isn't enough to tie them together enough the _Raven Mocker_ would want them dead so…

"And what about you?" she taps the male caregivers photo and looks around again but being that he was a live-in makes it a little harder to put him in a bar or even at the diner and how the hell would she tie him in with the teacher? "No… there's something else cus this isn't working either."

Sloane would just tell her to look again, only this time to focus on something else so Tëmpe tosses the bios aside and randomly grabs a file. The picture is not a good one but she's got the caregiver so look she must. Halfway down the file Tëmpe stops and there's a name jumping out at her practically screaming _"LOOK AT ME!"_

"Mr. Isaac Thoern… I wonder…" Tëmpe grabs at another file and flips it open to a picture of Lane Franze but she already knew Isaac would be there. What she wants is the alumni photo she plucks out of the file and leaves the mess on the bed as she stands and carefully hops off the bed. This time there's no need for slacks or heels and Tëmpeztrà is happy to slip on her comfy leather boots. It's a snug fit what with the fuzzy socks she's not giving up in this cold weather. She slips the charcoal leather jacket over her black zip up hoodie and grabs her helmet. She's thinking it wasn't such a good idea to hop on the bike and take off before the guys but at least she's got wheels and that reminds her; **_Heading out. Do NOT eat my food_**_._ The text is sent and the cell goes in her back pocket.

The bar is only 15minutes away and by the time she arrives its looking busy. Tëmpe checks her cell and its just coming to 9pm and there's a text from Bhaze.

**_No_**_ **promises. Where u at?**_

**_Bar. I'm hungry. I mean it. Want food when I get back._**

Its not gonna do any good but there's always the diner on her way back and Tëmpe needs to ask around there too. She heads in and goes right up to the bartender. She hasn't spoken to him yet and quickly works out her story. She'll play the girlfriend who thinks he's cheating and let it go from there.

"Hi."

"Hey." Tëmpe set her helmet down on the empty stool and slips the picture from her jacket. "I'll have a soda."

"Soda?" he looks her over and before he asks for an ID, Tëmpe points to her helmet.

"I'm driving. You really think beer is gonna be my friend?" she smiles at him using that flirty tilt of her head Jon always gave in to; _'Not _always._ He still left.'_

"Responsible. I like. What kind?" he nods and grabs a glass.

"Coke." Tëmpe watches him drop a cherry into it and place it in front of her. She slides the picture closer to him and starts. "You see him around?"

"Boyfriend?" he leans up on the bar eyeing her curiously but he takes the picture and looks at it.

"Might be an ex soon if the bastard's cheating." She watches for the tell, a sign that he recognizes Lane… He nods and points.

"Yeah, seen him around a few months back."

Tëmpeztrà takes the picture back but he's pointing at a different face than she expected.

"You're sure?" she looks up and he's nodding, no doubt on his face at all.

"Lisa was pretty much on his jock anytime he came in. They'd leave soon after, never did finish a shift… sorry." Though he doesn't seem to sorry over the fake break up he thinks is coming up.

"Well, thanks." Tëmpe drops a bill on the bar and grabs her helmet. "That clears up plenty."

"Wait, hey!"

She's not in the mood for flirting; not looking for a hook up either even with the pretty package the bartender presents and her next stop is the diner where the waitress worked. She walks in and takes a seat at the counter, a minute later and she's got the same old waitress pouring her coffee. Tëmpe orders a meal to go because once she's done asking her questions sitting in a booth to eat while getting weird looks isn't gonna make her meal enjoyable. It's another 10minutes before she even sees her food come up to the window where the same waitress packs it in a container and slips it into a plastic bag.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am." She tries a smile and gets the picture ready. "Are you always here?"

"Every day so long as I can work." Tëmpe gets a once over and then; "Why?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me if they've been in here before." She holds up the picture of Lane and Isaac watching the old woman's face but like the bartender; "Yes."

"Together?" Tëmpe doesn't expect the titter of laughter and the old waitress leans over the counter where the cash is lying.

"No, but they came in with the same woman. Different days, about the same time." she shakes her head. "Becky liked this one." She taps Lane's glossy face but her eyes keep wandering over to Isaac.

"Did this man ever speak to her?" Tëmpe can tell right away it's the one question too many and even though she tells the waitress not to worry, she's got her answer.

Outside she stops next to her bike and dials Bhaze. He answers around a mouthful she ignores. "I got our connection. Call Asher, we're gonna need it sooner than we thought."

**D&W**

"Yahtzee!"

Sam sits up and Dean grins.

"It's been right here." Dean lays the sheets on the bed where Sam has moved his legs. "The geezer was giving me a headache-."

"You figured it out?"

"Partially." Dean makes a face but he focuses on the information they have. "The teacher; he's got ties to the Cherokee."

"Like…what." Sam frowns because he certainly doesn't look Native American in the least. "Family?"

"Well yeah though it's not enough he can register- yes," Dean rolls his eyes in a slight huff because he isn't an idiot. "I did some digging around. I do know what I'm doing here, Sammy."

He doesn't mention that there were plenty of clues in the home when they bluffed their way in or the fact that a lot of the classroom had been decorated with Indians though to be fair, the kids were learning all about Thanksgiving since it is November.

"The legends say the Medicine Man with … uh, the right medicine can see it in its true from." Sam eyes the pictures of the teacher and the business owner.

"It's supposed to die 7days after that." Dean points out and the only dead are victims so…

"Who's to say it actually works out this way, Dean? I mean," and Sam leans his arms on his knees where he's still sitting on the bed, hazel eyes intent. "These are _oral_ legends; none of this was ever written down and in each telling some of the facts could've been changed. It happens."

"Then we are screwed." Dean drops the papers in his hands and runs both hands through his short hair leaving the top just a tad spiked. "We have 'blessed arrows' to kill this thing with and oh, yeah, they _might_ not work out. You wanna give this a crack, Sam?" he glowers but the frustration is getting to them both.

"How do we tie the victims together?" Sam stands and moves next to his brother, both staring down at the files spread out on the bed. After a moment, Dean goes to the foot of the bed and looks at the mess from a different angle.

"The teacher and the business owner, they have Cherokee blood so…maybe they saw it. They saw the bird man and it killed them." Dean shrugs because it sounds far fetched- I mean, _two_ men who could see it? Really?

"It's a million to one odds but I'm going with it." Sam shrugs. With what they've seen and done… hell, this is nothing. "What about George Goldstein?"

"Yeah, all I got for him is this." Dean pulls up the work history and hands it to Sam who starts reading down the list of clients. Dean grabs Lane Franze's file and holds it open as well, finger pointing to the sheet. "Isaac Thoern."

Sam frowns and skims the page again; "Elizabeth Thoern."

They have a connection and there's that complaint in the file as well. Elizabeth Thoern died but her family protested because it was so sudden and she'd been doing much better though the woman would die eventually.

"You think Goldstein killed her?" Sam looks at his brother and it's clear from his expression that it's more likely. "Mercy killing…"

"Maybe she didn't want to fight anymore. Maybe she was tired of being in pain and … Georgie helped her out." Dean thinks it's likely and it's not unheard of. "Or maybe George was the _Raven Mocker_ …" he shrugs but they both don't quite buy it and it's not like they're gonna wait around for another victim to pop up.

Isaac Thoern is their one lead and they can tie him to two of the victims.

"I say he gets a visit from the FBI."

Sam agrees.

**D&W**

They stand around the small table in their hotel room. The frail looking Medicine Man at the Res told Asher the _Raven Mocker_ would die one of two ways. Unfortunately there was only one available to him since the 'special' tobacco had been taken by his youngest grandson and smoked just the day before.

"Pot." Tëmpe echoes. "He thought it was old Native _Pot_."

"Doesn't matter." Bhaze responds. "Blessed wood arrows or not, we have a weapon."

Yes, they really do and right now it's resting on the old buckskin square it had been wrapped in when the Medicine Man handed it over. He wasn't going to at first, not to some pale face but Asher made it work. He explained _who_ he was and _what_ he was doing and _why _the weapon was needed. The Medicine Man saw the truth, he'd watched the news… he didn't see the connection but he believed Asher simply because he knew of Hunters.

"It looks…" Asher thinks twice because he wants to say fragile-

"Pretty." Tëmpeztrà pipes up because the light from the overhead lamp is making it glitter and spark. Its sort of spear like in shape and long- surprisingly so- exactly 21inches in length.

"I hope it doesn't break." Bhaze mutters wearing a slight frown. That's the last thing they need.

"Ok. I did my part." Asher looks between Bhaze and Tëmpe, a dark eyebrow raised in question. The siblings are silent. Truthfully, they're no closer to figuring out how to track the damn bird man so Bhaze has decided they're all taking turns watching Isaac Thoern's home and tailing him.

"Seriously?" Asher looks between them again. "We're playing-."

"_Don't …_say it." Tëmpe cuts in before he mentions-

"What." Asher frowns. "I love _Simon & Simon'_."

"Uyh…." Tëmpe rolls her eyes and doesn't say anything else. She kinda likes the show too. _'The blond one is cute.'_ And there it is again; a clear preference in type because Jon is blond and; _'God damn it! Will you stop with this shit? Jeez!'_

"I'm taking first watch." Tëmpeztrà turns on her heel and grabs her jacket. The gray leather goes over her black boat-neck sweater (she likes it's got thin burgundy and blue stripes and its light but warm) the black skinny jeans tuck neatly into her boots and her toes won't freeze thanks to another pair of fuzzy socks. Before grabbing her helmet she returns to the table and takes the quartz dagger making sure it's securely wrapped in its buckskin.

"Hey-."

"Second shift can take it off my hands, boys." Tëmpe grabs her helmet and quickly leaves the hotel room. She can hear them; voices muffled and she knows they're likely arguing about who's taking the second watch. Its late afternoon now and this means the boys get the worst of the cold but then, they both have cars they'll be sitting in. Tëmpeztrà eyes her bike mournfully.

"I'm gonna freeze my ass off out here."

But someone has to play super hero and it might as well be her.

**D&W**

There's two.

Young and strong but they'll figure it out and then they'll come again.

They'll come to kill.

It's what they do.

What they are.

"Hunters."

And it's been so long since he's taken a Hunters heart.

**D&W**

Tëmpeztrà stares at the cell in her hand. It's ringing and his picture flashes on the screen but she doesn't pick up. A cold gust of wind burns her cheeks and nose, tossing long strands of dark hair into her face and the ringtone cuts out.

He'll get the voice mail and maybe this time he won't leave one but she hasn't listened to any of them, each one erased before it's allowed to play and Jon made his choice.

He wasn't happy.

He didn't feel whole.

"No time for this." Tëmpe mutters under her breath and continues walking down the street until she's at the corner. There's a nice overgrown wall that gives plenty of cover from both sides of the street and she has a perfect view of the Thoern house. She watches the fading tail lights of a classic Chevy disappear into the dusk of early evening. It'll be a few hours before one of the guy's shows up to take over.

The house is dark and remains so the next three hours while Tëmpe tries to keep warm and out of sight. She notices a light in the second floor which goes out 20minutes later.

Its tedious and boring work, the part of the job Tëmpe could do without but then she remembers Sloane saying that patience is always rewarded.

Her lips pull into a sad smile and this melancholy mood just won't let go of Tëmpeztrà. It's always the holidays…

**D&W**

Bhaze heads off. He's gonna stop for some coffee and snacks before sending his sister back to the warmth of the hotel room. The slight frown on his face is still there as he walks into the shop and orders. He can't help but think of his sister and the krappy mood she's been in since Jon left them. Yeah, _them_. After what happened with the snakes, what he told them about what they thought they knew of the world… And the Duke's had shared too. They told him about Hunting- hell, there'd been no choice.

Sloane wouldn't agree. She'd tell them there were other options but they hadn't bothered to consider them or even think of any and yeah, maybe his Mom would've been right but at the time it seemed only fair to include Jon.

Bhaze had thought- it just seemed like Tëmpe was getting the 'happily ever after' with Jon. And deep down, Bhaze had been wishing it would be enough to get Tëmpeztrà out of Hunting for good or at least pull her out enough there'd be no more risks.

His cell phone chirps and there's a message from Jon.

**_How is she?_**

Bhaze snorts.

How is Tëmpe?

Well … she's certainly not happy, and yeah she's still pissed off…

**_Fine_**_._

What else is he going to tell Jon?

His coffee ready, Bhaze heads out of the shop and climbs into the **_General Lee_**. He spots his sister 1ominutes later and drives past her position to park on the opposite side of the street where he can still have a view of the house. He leans across the front seat and rolls down the window then huddles into his jacket. A minute later, his sister is sliding in the window and closing it after herself.

"Not a peep." Tëmpe reports. "He hasn't left."

"Great. Let's hope we get lucky and finish this." Bhaze takes a sip of his coffee and surreptitiously eyes her. "So."

"What?" Tëmpe turns in the passenger seat to face him. She knows he has something to say and the ignored call makes her think she already knows what's coming.

"Got a text."

"Yeah. That's what cell phones do these days."

Bhaze is silent for a moment. She's already defensive but he goes in anyway.

"It's been a year. How long are you going to keep ignoring his calls? He wants to talk-."

"But out." Tëmpeztrà glares.

"Tëms-."

"I don't need you to tell me how to deal with my personal life, Bhaze. And I don't want to talk about Jon with you or anyone else. He's gone." She grabs at the handle and furiously rolls down the glass. "He left. He wanted his old life back and there wasn't anything I said that made a difference so _No_. Just shut up about him already!"

"Tëmpeztrà-." Bhaze reaches out to grab her leg and she yanks away from him. She doesn't turn back and is halfway down the block before Bhaze can stick his head out the window. He blows out a breath and lets her go. She's angry, still pissed off at Jon and Bhaze knows his sister was definitely in it with Jon and now _he's_ mad at Jon for hurting his baby sister this much…

"Krap." Bhaze huffs a long sighed breath and rolls up the window. It's an hour before he realizes Tëmpe never handed him the quartz dagger. "_Krap._"

**D&W**

Sam spots Isaac Thoern and hesitates to follow him but does. He's texting Dean when Thoern is just gone and Sam looks around trying to figure out how he's lost him. The cell rings and Sam picks up; "I lost him."

_"The Professor? How'd you do that?"_

"I'm on my way back." Because Sam is about to snap and say _I blinked_ and that's how Isaac disappeared because it certainly feels like it was that fast. He's only gone three blocks when he starts to feel winded and that's strange because he hasn't done anything more strenuous than walk. Sam slows his pace but one more block and he's _wheezing_ – it dawns on him; _"…__the dying person only appears to those around them to be choking and gasping for air…"_

He stumbles and a young woman gets bumped in the process. Sam's trying to breathe, to slow his thundering heart and not panic. Whatever she says doesn't register but she's calling out for help, looking about for a place to sit him down and he starts to feel the air rush into his lungs though at a too slow pace.

"Fine." He gasps as she sits him down, her hand cool on his cheek as she tilts his face up towards hers. Sam notes green eyes and light brown hair under a black knitted cap. He closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing and finally listens to her voice. She's calm, assuring him and Sam thinks she's probably a Mother or maybe she deals with kids because that's how she sounds. "I'm fine, thank you…" Sam breathes in again, slow and deep, savoring the wonderful smells all around and he opens his eyes. He offers her a smile, the hazel eyes on full puppy charm.

"Are you sure?" she's looking around again, her hand resting on his shoulder and Sam notices they've drawn a small crowd. He stiffens- it's been almost – since they've been plastered on the TV all over the US and laying low hasn't been easy. The motion catches her attention and she's about to ask what's wrong when Sam stands up.

"Thank you, really. I'm fine. I have to go." He hurries off, glancing over his shoulder and all around as he makes it another two blocks with the young woman almost forgotten. He sends Dean a text and how the hell did he become a target?

**D&W**

Asher gets back to the hotel room to find Bhaze still asleep. He stops at the foot of the bed and seriously considers playing a prank on his cousin. Maybe something along the lines of shaving cream in his face or trying to get him to pee himself…

"Nah, my brain isn't working right now." He mutters and moves off to the empty bed and just drops on it face down. Its too much effort to remove his clothes and how much longer are they going to wait because its been two days of just sitting and watching and not doing anything else but waiting.

And waiting.

And lots more waiting…

_'And now its Tëmpe's turn.'_

Yeah, the next 6hours it's all her but there's still light and before dusk, Bhaze will be up and out to take over.

"Nothin' to worry over…"

Nope…

Nah-uh…

**D&W**

Sandra Blhake has no idea how her day got this way. It seemed like just another mundane, nothing-special, type of day… well, until Sam Winchester bumped into her and practically knocked her down. Her first reaction had been to get angry because there's this big guy towering over her 5'4" frame and no 'Pardon me miss', not even a muttered 'Sorry' or 'Excuse me' to apologize for almost running her over. … But then she notices he isn't purposely running her down- no, the guy seems to be having trouble breathing and her first thought is; _"Dude's an asthmatic."_ So she tries to help him, gets him into a chair outside the Deli she's just walked out of and looks around for help.

…

Well, it gets weird then.

Sandra didn't _think _she really saw what she saw…

Sandra chooses to ignore the freaky-deaky mirage and focuses on the guy clearly getting himself together. And then all she gets is some breezy 'thank you' but then she really did nothing for him and he's gone. Walks right off…

No name, no number- _'So ok, what. He's way hot! Nothing wrong with appreciating the view and even less if touching is allowed…'_

And Sandra has plenty to keep her occupied once she's back at work. A whole bunch of scenarios in her mind where it'd be 'fun' to be touching tall-dark-and-gone. Even the occasional customer asking if they're open (Hello, you just walked in the door) is received with _only_ an eye roll that's missing the sarcastic "Gee, was that an _open_ door you just walked through?"

One time, Sandra even asked the customer if they'd ever thought of going back to school… I mean, how far can people take the _"There's no such thing as a stupid question."_

Sandra Blhake isn't just another human being how ever much she thinks and says that she is. She's done nothing out of the ordinary or extraordinary during the 26years of her life. She doesn't believe in the fairy tales her Grandmother would spin for her when she was a kid. That crazy old woman always smelled of a combination of sage, lavender and copal – not the usual Grandma scents but hey, that's what Sandra got and Grandma wasn't so bad- at least when she didn't go off on those stories of hers….

But the thing Sandra _didn't_ see earlier in the day is walking through her door-

There's a crash and glass breaks, the pieces sparkling under the receding sunlight washing in through the front display window. It makes that things shadow long and very black in the suddenly cold book store….

**D&W**

The blue sedan turns left onto the street with Isaac Thoern at the wheel. Tëmpeztrà watches him drive down the block before hurrying off to her bike. She's got the helmet on and heads after him all the while making sure to stay in his blind spot- easier to do on her bike than it would be in the **_General Lee_** or Asher's truck but the guys love their cars…

A few miles and Isaac Thoern turns down Main Street and pulls into the first available parking spot. There's nothing else open and Tëmpeztrà moves past with the rest of Main Street traffic. She turns the corner and finds the first side street to turn into. It takes her a few minutes to get back to the sedan and by then its only luck that presents her with a glimpse of Thoern going into a shop.

Tëmpe's lucky he didn't see _her_.

The sign across the street has a faded scroll and _Book Barn_ beside it in bright red letters. Obviously newly repainted…

She hesitates to move any closer even though there's something … _off_ …

_"Go with your gut. It's almost always the smartest thing to do."_

Tëmpeztrà still hesitates a few minutes, debating whether or not to cross the street and show herself to Thoern because what would be her excuse?

Her cell phone in hand, smoky eyes watch the store …. **_On Main Street. Book Barn._**

She's across the street with a muttered "Screw it." Under her breath. There's nothing that says she can't walk into the shop and buy a book… _'Or snoop._'

That feeling… it only gets stronger and by the time she pulls the handle and the jingling bell over her head announces her presence there's nothing but a certainty that nothing good is coming her way.

Isaac Thoern has Sandra Blhake on the floor.

Tëmpeztrà can see the brown boots twitching; lazily and the soft choking sounds are faint. There's no mistaking what that black shadow passing over Thoern could be and Tëmpe has a vivid image of the _Raven Mocker_ in her head from all the research. She can't help but admire the beauty in such an evil spirit but then, well… the same was said of Lucifer; wasn't he the most beautiful of angels in heaven?

"She's barely breathing." Isaac keeps his face averted though he turns towards the door where Tëmpeztrà has paused. "You should call for help."

She notices his voice-it's a raspy, soft sound that echoes as though it's a choir. It isn't normal and Isaac has to know that.

"Help…" Tëmpeztrà breathes and there's that almost imperceptible glimmer of sparks from the spirit. "I'm gonna help." Her hand grips the buckskin covered dagger, drawing it from her back as she rushes the rest of the way into the store. Isaac stands in a fluid motion while the buckskin falls to the floor and the rainbow of lights sparks off the quarts blade from the sunlight quickly fading to dusk. He ducks the strike at his head and then chest, hands raised to block the sparks of light seeming to pierce into him.

It's the sound that startles Tëmpeztrà, that high pitched caw-just like a crow and there's a black swoosh of feathers and … and it's … just gone. …

She turns in a half circle, dagger at the ready, head cocked and listening but there's nothing aside from the hacking cough of Sandra as she regains her breath; gasping out sobs and unintelligible gibberish though there's mentions of 'Fucking crazy Grammy'.

**_It's Thoern!_**

Tëmpeztrà shoves her cell back into her pocket and grabs the buckskin with which she wraps the dagger in, securing it once again and hiding it under her leather jacket. She kneels beside Sandra, helping her sit up and rest against the counter.

"It's going to try to kill you again." The words aren't at all reassuring but Tëmpe doesn't have the time to coddle the next victim.

Sandra shakes her head because; "No. Nah-uh! No way!"

"It's you or him and he's not going to die just to let you live." Tëmpeztrà grabs her arm and hauls. "Up. Now."

Sandra yelps and the grip on her arm doesn't loosen one bit, less so when Tëmpe starts for the door.

"Wait! Wha-woa, I'm not going out there!" Sandra pulls back and they're caught in a tug of war that Tëmpeztrà will eventually win but doesn't have the time to see through. Sandra yanks herself from Tëmpe and smacks into her own counter with a muttered curse because it really does hurt.

"You stay here." Tëmpeztrà crosses her arms, smoky eyes hard as she stares down the civilian. "He'll come back and you will die." She lets the words hang between them watching Sandra's expression flit from shock to fear to indecision but the answer is always the same. Humans have an instinctual need to survive, it's just how everyone's wired. "You saw him. What he _really_ is. That means he's dead in 7days. _7_." Tëmpe extends her hand, palm up and waits.

"Bu-bu-but…but I-I…"

A dark eyebrow comes up just a bit and Sandra utters a soft whine that's not going to change the fact her day just went to shit.

**D&W**

Asher has the best chance of calming Sandra considering what a goof ball he tends to be. Bhaze just doesn't have the patience to deal with hysterics and more than once he's told his sister how happy he is she doesn't freak out when shit hits the fan. Then again, their life isn't like Sandra's ….

"Uhm… this is a first."

Tëmpeztrà closes her eyes; head hanging as she quietly turns around and heads right back out of the room she's almost walking into.

"Ahh…I can't." Sandra huffs. She hasn't _wanted_ to accept anything they've said even though she knows they're telling her the truth. It's just not that easy to throw away all those years of believing her Grandmother was just a crazy woman spewing fairy tales-especially when most of them gave Sandra nightmares…

"He'll get her." Bhaze is quiet, hand on her shoulder already walking with Tëmpe away from the living room. Blue eyes spare a glance to where their cousin is working on their damsel in distress. It's the one thing Asher excels at and the trio work together like a well oiled machine. Each one has their area of expertise so to speak. Tëmpe, because she's the youngest and because she was forced to stay with Luke and Aspen those two years without hunting, has learned to make research and information gathering her 'thing'. She's no slouch when it comes to weapons or hand to hand- she's had the same training as Bhaze- but then she had three years with Jon and he did his own teaching…

Asher's thing is people. They like him, they tell him things maybe they wouldn't normally say and he's always able to calm down the victims they manage to save. (Lets face it; not everyone gets to live.)

Bhaze… he has connections, he finds the things they need and he keeps them all safe. Hunting wasn't the only thing Luke found fault with and wanted far from his home and family.

"Isaac won't stop."

Tëmpe nods, she knows this, they all do even if Sandra doesn't want to accept it yet.

"You went at him Tëmps." Bhaze takes her arms, his grip firm as he looks down at her. "He knows what you are, what you do…"

She nods again, the concern in his blue eyes only makes her feel guilty; like she's failed because she didn't kill Thoern…

"I survived a Snake." Tëmpeztrà tries a smirk even though the reminder of Jon hurts. "A _Raven Mocker_… eh." She shrugs, hand lightly smacking Bhaze in the chest. "Doesn't stand a chance against the three of us."

Bhaze snorts, he's not sure how much is bullshit but he knows his sister and Tëmpe certainly is worried about this hunt. She worries on all of them and that's just normal. Hell, they _all _worry and why not when they could die.

"So the plan…" Bhaze _knows_ that look and _knows_ he isn't going to like the next thing out of her mouth.

"Bait." Tëmpe can't help her excitement at the idea of taunting the _Raven Mocker_. It's her one fault if she wanted to admit to any. The one thing that always pissed off Jon…

**D&W**

Dean is pissed; his motions sharp as he grabs his weapons and packs them into the duffel. He's pissed off that Sam almost kicked the bucket. _'Again.'_ He's angry at this fugly for coming after his brother because what the fuck…

"How'd it find us – _you_?" because it went after Sam not Dean and Dean can't figure out what the hell gave them away. Dean can't figure out what frigging sign is plastered on them that says _"Fuglys welcome. Come take a shot. We love getting mauled and dying because we always come back."_

"I don't know." Sam blows out a heavy breath, hands running through his long hair only for it to flop back into his eyes. "I really…I never saw it. I don't even know where it was, where it came from."

Dean's phone kicks in, its incessant _psycho_ scream with accompanying music a welcome distraction even though Sam quirks an eyebrow at his brother.

"Bobby-."

_"You boys figure how to track this thing?"_

"Uh..-." Dean eyes Sam who sits up, expression attentive. "Nooo-o."

_"Tell me you idjits …"_ Bobby sighs and Dean can almost picture the old Hunter running a hand down his face; frustrated, annoyed- most likely both and then some. _"Look, I found an old … story. Turns out the Cherokee had _Raven Mocker_ hunters; _Gûñskäli'skï._ Now, this Hunter used quartz to track 'em. Works the same as in the stories, the quartz lets you see 'em as they are and 7days after…"_

"It dies." Dean finishes.

_"You boys can find some quartz … or do you need-."_

"No." Dean quickly cuts in. "No, Bobby, thanks." He hangs up before the old Hunter gets in some well deserved rebukes. "We need quartz."

Sam nods though he's not sure what for. "Ok… ?..."

"Lets go." Dean moves towards the door, the duffel over his shoulder and Sam grabs his jacket hurrying after his brother.

**D&W**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: So far, I have it all worked out and this was actually the last in the DukeWinchester family verse but its been the easiest to get out. I'm thinking, maybe a late Thanksgiving fic just for fun or maybe I'll make it Christmas... eh, I'll enjoy dreaming up the holiday torture for these five._  
><strong>


	2. The Family

**_AN: Here is the last piece and I hope you've all had fun. _**

**_Yes, this is the 3rd fic in the series. _J&T_ is the 2nd and likely the next one I'll have finished. Just gimme a couple of months =) _**

**_I think it's likelier I'll finish the Christmas fic with these five before that though-just don't expect it to be done_ by_ Christmas. _**

**_I've been struggling a lot this past year or maybe even more with my writing. What I do manage to get done is such an effort I'm not happy with how it turns out but I'm too damn stubborn to just give up so I'm muddling through and hopefully this can't go on much longer so I'll be back to my normal self and enjoy writing again._**

**_Thanks for sticking it out with me.  
><em>**

* * *

><p><strong>D&amp;W<strong>

They've been going back and forth the last hour. Bhaze just doesn't want to use Tëmpe as bait but he knows his sister has a point. The _Raven Mocker_ will come after them both; Sandra and Tëmpeztrà.

"We have 7days to plan this out, Tëmps." Bhaze needs the time to figure out an alternate plan, one he doesn't have to use his sister to lure the damn thing out.

"Isaac's not waiting 7days." Tëmpe points out. "He's likely searching us out now and oh, guess where he's gonna look for Sandra … at home. Right here." She stands with arms crossed, eyes a dark gray and fully annoyed with him.

"You're crazy." Bhaze states with a glare.

"And you're both _loud_." Asher interjects. "How's a guy supposed to sweet talk a lady with you two bitching not 15feet away?"

"Sweet talk?" Sandra snorts at his back. Both walk into the kitchen where Bhaze and Tëmpeztrà have been trying to keep their voices down.

"If you're implying my skills are lacking … well," Asher shrugs and throws a wink at Sandra. "You can help me practice."

Sandra emits a short laugh. She's not averse to practicing anything with Asher but in the situation she finds herself…it just doesn't have the same appeal.

"Horn dog." Tëmpe mutters but her cousin just smiles. He doesn't mind the loving insult, heck there's plenty worse she's called them both.

"Can it?" Sandra's gaze shifts between the siblings, her shoulders slightly hunched in and her fear is still very much present. "Come here, in my house…?"

"It could." Tëmpeztrà answers when her brother and cousin remain silent. "We don't have the plants to ward your home." And it's because of some dumb kid who thought it'd be smart to smoke some old weeds his grandfather kept in a box. And why wouldn't the old man put the box somewhere safe? Who left important objects out in the open like that?

Sandra nods. "Ok, so… now what?" she looks to them for guidance since this seems to be their area of expertise and who'd have thought there really were monsters out there? She's just a little sorry to have ignored her grandmother's tales and relegated her to 'senile-crazy-old-lady' status.

"We play bait." Tëmpeztrà frowns at her brother, a warning to shut up and let her work. "You'll be safe with them-."

"Hold on-." Bhaze glares though it doesn't get him far.

"We know Sandra can't be left alone. We know it's going to want her more than me because she has the natural gift. She can _see _him in his spirit form, Bhaze."

"And what are you doing that has Goldie Locks thinking of tying you up?" Asher ignores the narrowed blue eyes Bhaze turns to him.

"I'll take the dagger and be available." It's straightforward and simple. "We want this to be out of the way and quiet."

No one says anything though Bhaze has plenty he can find fault with but telling Tëmpeztrà 'No' would be like dangling a carrot in front of a mule to get it moving. And if Tëmpeztrà even thought he was comparing her to a farm animal…

"There's an old … a place just outside of town." Sandra offers. Her gaze skips over them once again and she's not stupid. She can see they don't want Tëmpe going off alone and yet they feel responsible for keeping Sandra safe.

"Great." Tëmpeztrà rest both hands on the counter.

"Not great." Bhaze snaps. "You think you're going off alone-."

"I am." Tëmpe glares.

"No. You're not." Bhaze retorts.

"Quit. Damn…" Asher glowers, it's finally enough. "We're not doing anything tonight so quit bitching at each other." He points to Bhaze, aware his finger's making a great target for them both. "He's not going to let you go off alone and that's just stupid, Tëms."

"Stu-."

"Yeah," he cuts her off before she starts yelling at him. "We know who it is, where it lives, what it wants- we have both of you here." Asher glances at Sandra and notices her frowning at him. He ignores that to. "He's not bothering us tonight so get some sleep or use the next few hours to come up with a better plan."

There's a long moment of silence Tëmpeztrà uses to glare at them both. Its two against one and Sandra won't be of any help- her vote doesn't count and right now Tëmpe hates the fact they always side against her when it comes to even the slightest hint of danger in any of their plans. Granted; hers are usually the most risky.

"Fine." Tëmpeztrà moves past Asher, snakes Sandra's wrist and drags the other woman out of the kitchen.

"See you in the morning…" Sandra calls over her shoulder as Tëmpe heads upstairs. "There's a guest room-." She points down the hall but Tëmpe walks them both into Sandra's room and closes the door.

"I'm going after Isaac tonight." Tëmpe states as soon as the door is locked.

"But-."

"You really want it to come here? For you?" Tëmpe poses the question she already knows the answer to. It's only a moment of hesitation before Sandra shakes her head 'No'. "Where's this place out of town? What is it?"

"The old brewery off 96." Sandra whispers. Her eyes dart to the door as if afraid the guys will be listening. "You can see it from the main highway but its not accessible from it. 96 was the only road to and from but it's … not pretty."

Pretty is not an apt description of the rough road now nothing more than dirt and rocks interspersed with what ever is left of the asphalt.

"Ugly doesn't scare me." Tëmpe heads to the window and as Sandra watches, gets it open. "Close this after I leave, lock it and don't tell them I'm gone." She pokes her head out the window, body sliding half out before Tëmpe ducks her head into the room again. "Give me 2hours before you do tell them."

"Ok." Sandra nods, just a little freaked by the fact Tëmpe knows it's what she'll do as soon as the Hunter is gone. Sandra doesn't want to die. It's only natural and if Tëmpeztrà goes after the bird man, well… it's a little more time Sandra has to shit her pants with fear, right?

**D&W**

There's a chant. Bobby sent the email to Sam; they stumble through the words trying to pronounce them correctly because most of these things screw you royally if they aren't spoken correctly. Still, Sam gives it a go or tries to but they don't have any knowledge of Cherokee and anyone who does lives to far away to help them out.

"Try this." Dean shoves the lap top towards Sam and gets a surprised look from his little brother. "What." Dean huffs. "Google translates."

"We know what it says, Dean."

Dean points to the little speaker icon, green eyes giving Sam that 'are you stupid' look.

They get their translation and Sam records it on his cell. Its dark now but they managed to gather what they'd need and head out.

**D&W**

_Kâ'lanû Ahkyeli'skï_ is the Angel of Death.

He arrives with the caw of a crow, perched on the roof where his next victim hides.

Black wings spread wide under the crescent moon…

**D&W**

Sam eyes the run down building as Dean navigates the huge potholes in the so called road. The quartz lights up- sparkling so bright Dean finally covers it with a stray rag from under the seat. The muted glow is easier to endure and the Impala finally draws to a stop just inside the gates of the old brewery.

"Let's hunt us a _Raven Mocker_." Dean braves the cold night and reaches for the quiver her straps to his waist as Sam comes around.

"We won't be able to see it." Sam warns holding out the compound bow his brother takes. Dean shrugs, its not the first time they've hunted with a handicap and it certainly won't be the last.

Sam opens the pouch and a soft glow lights their way into the building. He hopes it'll work the same inside as it did while tracking the spirit; glowing brighter the closer they came to _Kâ'lanû…_

**D&W**

She hasn't been an easy target and that's pissed him off. Tëmpeztrà can tell…pain is a perfect gauge of how much.

Tëmpe moves quietly, balancing on the balls of her feet and always listening. She knows it can't be silent, that there's a soft rustle as it comes near and even in the pitch black of the old brewery where it's come to hide there's the barest glimmer of sparks behind its feathers. That's all she gets from the quarts dagger but its better than fighting it totally blind. It's how she avoids the blow to her head when it catches up to her.

Tëmpeztrà tries to run. It's bigger, stronger and invisible. Quartz dagger or not, if she can't get close enough to use it or see the _Raven Mocker_ coming at her… what use is it?

The barrel rolls down the dusty, cobwebs of the aisle and Tëmpe can't outrun it. She gives it a try and ducks aside at the last moment. It knocks into her anyway, her knee smarting and then there's the softest brush of feathers in her face before a vise clamps onto her throat. It's hard, cold and painful. She can't breathe, can't hurt him and this time… well, the boys aren't there for back up. She's alone again and the lack of oxygen is going to make thinking her way out of certain death one more time … difficult.

**D&W**

Sam finds her first, his longer legs being the advantage once again. She's hanging from a barely discernible arm, he gets just the outline of the _Raven Mocker_. A faint glimmer of sparks from its body-

She's fighting it-at least trying to. She kicks and hits something solid because there's a barrier even if Sam can't see exactly what it is. Her hands are clutching at something close to her chest, one hand trying to claw at her throat but it seems as though she's only getting air.

Dean pauses beside his brother, the girl hanging from the darkness still struggling and the compound bow is quickly aimed though there's nothing to target. Either way he guesses and the first blessed arrow Bobby bought from the medicine man on _eBay_ or where ever thunks into something solid. They both see the sparks, dim as they are, flow from the point of impact to the ground and the huge shape is outlined for them both to see.

Tëmpe goes down, she falls and since she's still holding onto the arm or what ever, the _Raven Mocker_ falls with her. It lands half on her, heavy and suffocating, its feathers soft where they brush against her face and neck.

Sam moves quickly, watching her struggle under the invisible weight. He tucks the pouch with the quarts into his pocket and what little he could see of the spirit is gone completely. Dean nocks a second arrow and that will leave them with two last shots to take it down. If they can't see it…

Tëmpeztrà manages to reach the dagger at her back and pulls it out into view. Thousands of rainbow sparks flash like tiny light bulbs as she brings it up. It hurts him, _Kâ'lanû,_ and he cries out; a pained caw like the dying crow. The quartz blade sinks into the black feathers, its tip breaking through the bones to sever the spine at the base of his neck. The next instant there's a flicker of light that engulfs the _Raven Mocker_ before fading out.

Sam and Dean see it for the first time. He looks different from the googled images or even those in the books. It's huge and the big black wings cover her entire body.

Tëmpeztrà lets her head fall back on to the dirty ground, grateful Asher made the trip to the Res and convinced the Medicine Man to part with the dagger while cursing his grandson for smoking up the not-pot. She would much rather have used arrows and spots the one sticking out of the beaked head's cheek. As she reaches up the feathers whither; they grow brittle and delicate, flaking off like dust to leave her covered in black powder with a naked Isaac Thoern lying on top of her.

Sam grabs an arm and helps roll him off Tëmpe who tries not to sneeze and still does so.

"Bless you."

"Gross…" Tëmpe ignores Sam, rolls to her knee and gets to her feet while dusting herself with one hand. "Yuhg-!" there's more of it in her hair.

Dean looks her over; long dark hair she shakes out with both hands and as she does the hem of her shirt raises enough they get a glimpse of skin. It draws the green eyes to the dirty jeans tucked into black boots. He can appreciate the nice rear view as she turns to retrieve the dagger while Sam gives his brother a slight frown and negative shake of his head.

"What the hell is that?" Dean's focus once more on the hunt and the weapon she has in her small hand.

Tëmpeztrà wraps the quarts dagger in the buckskin cloth, smoky eyes on the men standing in front of her. She knows Hunters and they are certainly that. The taller one seems a bit more easy in nature than the blond and telling them about the dagger irks her; more so because of how Dean 'asks'.

"It's a dead body." Tëmpe's eyes slide to where Isaac Thoern lays on his side, blood pooling under his head and back to the Hunters. "Haven't you seen one before?"

Dean's jaw clenches at the smart ass answer. "Plenty." Though it's not something he ever brags about; it's difficult to put aside the faces of those they weren't able to save, of the friends lost to the things that go bump in the dark…

"Are you alright?" Sam eyes her, he has a mag-light and skims towards her neck and the dark smudges on her throat from where Thoern had tried to choke her.

Tëmpe looks to him. She's wary-even if they did come to her 'rescue'. Normally, Bhaze is the one who deals with other Hunters. He has the contacts; for information, weapons, just items they find themselves in need of during one hunt or another. Tëmpeztrà's been kept out of their way, even with Sloane there was never a person to person contact with other Hunters. It was safer … at least it had been back then.

"Better once this is taken care of." She taps her boot against Thoern's leg and notes Sam's slight wince. She's wondering if he's squeamish and hopes not though she can take care of the burning on her own. Seeing their size; both big men, Tëmpe would rather put them to doing the heavy lifting. "Pick a leg, arm, what ever." She shrugs, the dagger going back under her jacket as she moves around the dead body.

Sam and Dean look at each other, the silent conversation along the lines of 'how crazy is this chic' and 'we can't just leave a dead body lying around'.

Sam leaves Dean to do the heavy lifting with Tëmpe. They manage to drag Thoern out of the decrepit brewery and into the cold night. Once there Dean removes the arrow and slips it into the quiver at his hip with the other three. He catches her eyeing them and sort of smirks. "Show you mine if you show me yours…"

Tëmpe arches a dark eyebrow, not the least amused by his proposal and makes a slightly annoyed face. "You're the smart ass." She notices his slight frown and then there's Sam with the gas and a canister of salt. "Boy scouts." Tëmpe notes. "You come prepared. Nice." She grabs the salt from Sam and starts to douse the corpse.

Sam eyes Dean but his brother says nothing. He pours out the gas and steps back as Dean lights up the make-shift pyre.

Tëmpeztrà keeps herself apart from the Hunters, standing across from them with the pyre between the men and herself. She thinks of calling Bhaze, just so he knows the _Raven Mocker_ is dead and Sandra will be safe but she doesn't want to hear him bitching at her for sneaking out. She sends a text instead, very briefly assuring them Sandra is no longer in danger and picks the diner- a public place where Bhaze can't do all the yelling he wants to- where they can meet up.

The fire dies out slowly and then Sam has questions for her; "Were you hunting this alone?"

"See anyone else?" Tëmpe is quick to snap, defensive because she doesn't need strangers telling her to focus on the safer side of hunting since she's a girl. Her brother does enough of trying to push her into the research.

"Hey," Dean snaps. "We just saved your ass and all you've done is get-."

"Saved?" Tëmpe cuts in and shakes her head. "Listen, I've been tracking the _Raven Mocker_ for a week. You came in-."

"And saved your ass." Dean restates.

"Right." Tëmpe rolls her eyes. "Someone got dropped on their head."

"Look," Sam cuts in before Dean starts in on his reply. "You -."

"Seriously didn't need your 'help'. I do know what I'm doing," she points to the arrows, smoky eyes on Dean. "Your aim sucks."

"What-." Dean glares. "It was invisible!" he looks to Sam as though asking for some back up but Sam's finding this just a tad funny and gets caught trying not to smile. "I still saved your ass." Dean points out.

"Great," Tëmpe eyes the men-Hunters, actually and finds annoyance at their interference overshadowing any gratitude at saving her life. After all, this only makes Bhaze and Asher right and Tëmpeztrà is not about to say they are. "Does my knight have a name or can I go with jack ass?" Now _that _is just rude but does she care? Its not fair to them.

Sam swallows a snort of laughter and glances away. He knows what expression his brother is wearing just now and Sam can't help thinking she's a bit on the amusing side and there hasn't been much of that in a long while. Not much that Dean has found reason to smile let alone laugh over and what with Cas being…

"I'm Sam." He nods towards his brother. "And your 'knight' is Dean."

Dean offers a scowl at his brother for the dig.

"Sam and Dean." Tëmpe echoes just a little snide. "Cute." She brushes her hands on her jeans thinking this is all a big coincidence; those _are _common enough names and steps towards them. Then again they could be larping…and yet their faces look sort of familiar but she can't exactly figure out _why._ "You boys have a last name too or-."

"Winchester." Sam cuts in before she offers another insult. His lips twitch watching Dean's scowl do nothing to intimidate her.

_'No … way … ! … Saved by _the _Winchesters …?'_ Tëmpeztrà closes her eyes briefly and is certain God has to be having the laugh of his eternal life because this right here has just got to be funniest thing HE's seen since creation… _'Aw hell.'_

They were famous! The Winchesters held as example of tough as nails Hunters and fools, depending on who was talking and what they'd been drinking. And famous among civilians for the crimes they were said to have committed which is where Tëmpeztrà had seen their mugs plastered across any available TV more than a year ago.

"What?" Dean finally demands. He notices her sudden quiet and she's got a damn good poker face because when she looks at them again he can't tell what the hell she's thinking but he knows she is because that smart ass mouth of hers is suddenly silent.

Tëmpe eyes them once more. She's trying to find something-_anything_ –that might look familiar, give her a sense of kinship with these two men because there has to be one… Right?

…

…Nothing.

She gets nothing and so Tëmpe just shrugs, says Thank You and starts back towards town heading through the brewery once more. She's got three years worth of knowledge- three years of their _personal_ life in a box under her bed at home. She _knows _the Winchesters or at least the same as any tootie-frooty, fanfic-er and crazy out there thinks they'd know 'them' only Tëmpe can _feel_ their silent looks and the hushed question;_ what the hell…? _It's the 180 in her initial reaction to their coming to her rescue. And _what_ a rescue…!

The brothers move as one and follow after her. She doesn't say anything else and just as Dean opens his mouth to ask what brought on the sudden dismissal her cell rings. They glance at each other, both questioning the ring tone; _Sway with Me _and Dean turns to Sam, mouths' "_Dean Martin_…?"

But it isn't. There's a definite female voice to the lyrics and Sam corrects him with a silent; "_PCD._" And shrugs at Dean's 'look'.

"I'm alive, still in one piece, stop blowing up my cell." Tëmpeztrà answers without bothering on hello's and just as quickly ends the call, the cell phone goes right back into her jean pocket. She doesn't stop walking and spares them a glance over her shoulder. "Big brother." she explains. "He gets annoying when I don't 'heel'." She quirks an eyebrow, lips slightly twitching in an almost smile. It tells them she enjoys annoying this older brother.

The Winchesters look at each other and then Dean hurries up as they come out of the main gates of the brewery. The road is only a few yards off and the Impala is sitting off to the left all nice and shiny.

"Can we drop you somewhere?" Dean offers the ride and Tëmpe glances towards the sweet ride and gets this image of Bo. It's sudden and unexpected and Tëmpe blanks for just a second because it's like she's there once again. It's a sunny day and just a little hot, they're at the track in a makeshift garage. She's listening to Bo working on the **_General Lee_** with Bhaze and everything is ok, its just another day at the races… all of a sudden she has a lump in her throat.

"Thanks." Tëmpe jerks into motion once again and keeps going down the road with a wave. "I'm good." She clears her throat and blinks the shine of tears from her eyes. That life is just a memory … but it's still the life she misses.

Sam and Dean watch her head onto the paved two lane right back into town. They've got a healthy does of curiosity and they've learned their lesson in regards to that because they've ended up like the metaphorical cat one too many times. Dean shrugs and gets into the Impala. Sam does too and they head off right back to town because that's where they've been staying. Sam catches sight of Tëmpe heading into the shrubs and they pull up only for Tëmpe to come out on a bike.

"Huh." Dean watches and she offers them another wave before speeding off.

**D&W**

Bhaze and Asher are waiting at the diner in town. They're both upset-worried- because this last hunt is just another of Tëmpeztrà's stunts. It's because of her they came out at all especially since she was already on her way when Bhaze demanded to know what the hell she was thinking going off alone to hunt.

_'And on her bike in this weather…?' _Asher thinks it's taken her a while to blow but then it's been a year since…

"I'm ready to hog tie her and dump her in the basement." Bhaze says just one more time. He's threatened all sorts of incarceration but so far hasn't followed through on any of them. He's feeling guilty for being asleep while she was out 'almost' getting herself killed. He feels worse because had he agreed to consider her idea of playing bait just to get a shot at killing Thoern the _Raven Mocker_ she wouldn't have snuck out to do it on her own.

"Too many things down there for her to blow us up with." Asher points out because the old moonshine distillery is stored down there… He absently fiddles with the silverware on the table, gray-blue eyes following his cousins hand to the cell phone. "Put it down, B." he warns as Bhaze starts to dial Tëmpe once again.

"She's off on her own." Bhaze growls. "_Again._" And Sandra hadn't said a word… if it wasn't for the text almost four hours since they'd both headed up to Sandra's room-

"And she said not to call. _Again_." Asher reminds. "Look, she's already pissed off and hounding her for details isn't smart. You should know that." He chuckles because a pissed off Tëmpe is bad but a _furious_ Tëmpe…? "Dude, your parents hit the nail on the head when they named your sister."

At that Bhaze snorts a reluctant laugh. "Tëmpeztrà…" she's lived up to it so many times he's become used to the explosions of temper, random as they are and far between but then his sister tends to bottle up her emotions until there's no room left. Its what he's sure will kill her in the end and just hopes that's many years in the future and never anytime soon. He couldn't deal with anything like that…

Asher smiles, he's unaware of the depth Bhaze really worries over Tëmpe and out in the parking lot a familiar silver bike pulls into a slot by the front door. He watches his cousin pull off the helmet and thinks at least its one less thing Bhaze is gonna bitch about once she comes in.

Tëmpeztrà heads towards the front door of the diner and hears the familiar roar of the Impala's engine. She's been listening to it for the last fifteen miles into town and looks over as they drive past. Curiosity is killing her and the jingle of the diners' tiny cow bell announces she's that much closer to getting some answers. She clomps down the isle to the booth leaving just the hint of mud, where her brother and cousin have been waiting to chew her out.

"What'd Mom say about the Campbell's?"

Tëmpe doesn't bother with any explanation over Thoern or how the plan has worked out though by her presence they can surmise it had to end in their favor and slips into the booth next to her brother who ends up having to move. Her helmet is passed over the table to rest on the seat next to Asher.

"Ookay," Bhaze frowns. "What the hell-."

"I just ran into some guys we might be related to." Tëmpe cuts in to what she knows is going to be some bitch fest and there's more important things to discuss than her running off on a forbidden hunt. "So what'd Mom say about the family?"

"Hey," Asher waves a hand towards her. "The _Raven Mocker_-."

"Is dead and the dagger's in one piece." She sets the buckskin wrapped dagger on the table and Asher quickly takes it, gray-blue eyes scanning their immediate area to see if anyone has noticed. "Made this pretty flash of rainbowed light and then its black feathers turned to dust- think some of it is still in my hair." She makes a yuk face and glowers at her brother. "The family, Bhaze. The hunt can wait until after."

Bhaze frowns; he wants to find out what happened with the _Raven Mocker_ but he's curious about these guys as well. He thinks and remembers Sloane mentioning not having any contact with the other Campbell's because of Grampapa Ellison and the fact he didn't know about his son Cassian. Hannah saw he had a family and let it go. She raised Cassian on her own and they were good. There was no hunting, nothing supernatural to shadow their lives. They had a normal, ordinary, boring old life…

"So we got more family?" Asher looks from Bhaze to Tëmpe with the start of a smile. "I mean, the _other_ kind, like us, Hunters…" he's just a little in awe but then they aren't _his_. They're family, yeah and the past seven years have only drawn them closer to each other but the truth is the Hunters come from Sloane's side of the tree, from the Campbell's….

Asher is a Duke.

"Yeah," Bhaze frowns, his gaze drops to the Formica table top. "Uh… think it was, uh-."

"Samuel." Tëmpe answers. She tries to remember more but those stories are so old and she was no more than 3 or 4 the last time Sloane ever repeated them. Then again she's learned a lot from those books…

"Yeah…" Bhaze remembers a few other things he's heard over the years among Hunting circles and what with that Apocalypse averted two years back … Tëmpe and Bhaze just look at each other.

"Mom said Grampa Logan looked them up once, after he got back from the war." Bhaze mutters, he's wondering what the hell has Tëmpe asking questions about family they never even knew. Who the guys she mentioned could be but he's got a bad feeling he can take a guess and nail it.

"And?" she demands.

"And what, Tëmpe? We aren't doing bar-b-q's so something didn't go right." He glowers.

"Aunt Sloane never looked them up either?" Asher gets the look from Bhaze, that 'butt out' look and shrugs, sits back and lets Tëmpe deal with her brother.

"What for?"

"You wouldn't have liked knowing about that side?" Tëmpe demands. "Grampa Ellison was a hunter, Bhaze. Two generations, right there and who knows what we could've learned from them about this life. We don't even know if it goes back any further than them but I would've liked to know." There's plenty more she would've liked; her parents still alive, Jon not to have left- _'Damn it! Stop fucking thinking about him you idiot.'_

"We don't need them-." Bhaze insists. He's done fine on his own, with the little bit of help he's received from other Hunters when he's needed the help or information.

"It wouldn't hurt, B." Asher points out because for one, he's also curious about what krap there is out there they still don't know about.

"Don't help her." Bhaze warns.

Asher sits back and lets them argue. He's smart enough to quit before the shit hits the fan and at the sound of the cow bell looks up to the door. Two guys walk in and there's no mistaking the certain swagger they both have. He's seen it in Bhaze, the way he carries himself and in his walk. Tëmpe has it too, the same bad ass-don't fuck with me vibe… _Hunters._

"That them?" he draws their attention to the front of the diner. Both Bhaze and Tëmpe look up. Tëmpe sighs.

Asher raises a hand and waves them over as he scoots over in the booth closer to Tëmpe even though Bhaze glares at him cus what the hell is he inviting them over for?

Sam and Dean hesitate but they head over as one and Tëmpe snorts cus that so reminds her of Asher and Bhaze. It's kinda creepy at times, that whole silent telepathic wave they've got but she gets it. They've been the Three Musketeers for a while now and Tëmpe pushes aside thoughts of Jon commenting on how they'd remind him of SG1, the life he had before and that is just so fucking weird it's crazy how she just accepts it can only make sense.

"Sit, we're playing _20Questions_ today." Tëmpe waves her hand at the empty end of the circular booth where Asher has left them plenty of space.

San and Dean hesitate, do that silent communiqué and glance at Tëmpe flanked by two big guys they've never seen. Each gets a quick once over; blond and blue eyes looks more than a bit serious while the dark haired, gray-blue eyed guy is smiling at them like he's finding this whole thing amusing.

Thing is, Asher really does think this is gonna be fun. He's curious about this other side of the family and though he couldn't get past the second book he's wondering how much was just the writer's imagination and what was real.

"So-." Sam slides in to the booth and leaves room for his brother to sit.

"You never introduced yourself." Dean cuts in, green eyes locked on their 'damsel not so much in distress'.

"Fair is fair." Tëmpe kicks Bhaze under the table in warning. "I'm Tëmpeztrà Duke. This is my cousin Asher Duke and my brother Bhaze-."

"We're doing family tree for 300-." Bhaze gets right to the point, or tries….

"_Jeopardy?_" Tëmpe makes her 'are you for real' face which he ignores.

"Try, 'so what's your grampa like?'…" Asher throws out the question and gets some serious eyes on him. "It's an idea."

Sam and Dean look at each other. It doesn't go unnoticed how Dean's jaw clenches at just the mention of Samuel Campbell.

"His name." Bhaze demands.

"Excuse me?" Dean growls through his teeth. Tëmpe can see this going south so fast she's not finding it funny.

"You guys hungry?" she leans on the table and looks around for their krappy waitress. "I'm hungry. We should buy them lunch since they saved my ass." She does it on purpose because now Bhaze has something else to focus on; _'At least for the next ten seconds.'_

"Dinner." Asher corrects and gets 'the look' from Bhaze yet again.

"Yeah, about that." Dean leans both arms on the table. "Next time maybe find a hunt you can actually survive on your own."

"Whoa, there." Tëmpe narrows her eyes on the brothers. "I've survived plenty on my own. Without any help from some 'big tough Hunters' like yourselves." She's not hiding the sarcasm and ignores Asher's sighed eye-roll and hooks her thumbs on the guys flanking her. "Asher's not some newbie and _my_ brother and I know our way around a hunt just as well as you two." She leans across the table, smoky eyes hard as she stares him down. "You're not the only ones raised like warriors."

Dean's jaw twitches and Sam can see nothing good coming out of a blow out but it's not like they've had the best track record with most new Hunters they meet. And the three sitting across from the Winchesters look too damn young to know what the life is really all about. _'Raised like warriors?'_ because Sam said that to Dean when he first came around Stanford demanding they go looking for Dad…

"We might have a little more in common than our line of work." Asher knows when to hold up an olive branch and right now is the best time to do that and maybe add a white flag.

"Dude…" Bhaze has told him time and time again that Hunting is not Asher's legacy because he's got regular normal civilian parents. It doesn't seem to make any difference and neither sibling has figured out a way to get Asher home to his parents.

"Asher's family so get off it Bhaze." Tëmpe jabs his side none too gently. She takes up for Asher because Luke doesn't want to talk to him-he's pissed and scared Asher's gonna kill himself and really angry at Bhaze and Tëmpe for involving Asher in the hunting. Hell, Tëmpe's been worried about that since she found them out the summer she was 16.

"Correction," Asher hooks a thumb towards his cousins. "_They_ might have a little more-."

"Food!" Tëmpe cuts in and waves at the waitress lolling like a fool behind the counter. "C'mon, I'm gonna waste away here."

"You eat like-."

"A hungry girl so shut up." Tëmpe mock frowns at her cousin.

"You're bossy." Dean could bite his tongue as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah, she's my baby sister so don't be getting any ideas." Bhaze warns while Tëmpe makes a yuk face that Sam and Dean can't help but notice.

"There's a word for that, Bhaze." Asher leans around Tëmpe as the waitress finally manages to drop a couple of menus and walks off. "And it goes with 'incest'."

"Whoa! What?" Dean is horrified and just as quickly flashes of the thoughts going through his mind on seeing her for the first time just make him feel so gross….

"Hold on," Sam frowns. "Who are you?" because they certainly don't know the threesome questioning them like they're owed answers.

"Who are you?" Asher tosses back. He sits there fully relaxed with an amicable expression on his face while Tëmpe flips her menu open, closes her eyes and taps her finger on the laminated sheet.

"What?" Dean's eyes skip over Asher to Tëmpe as she looks at what she's blindly picked, makes a little mew of distaste and repeats the motion once again only this time she smiles.

"Extra cheese." Tëmpe looks up and waves to the waitress again.

**D&W**

It's been quiet for a while, neither of them sure of what to say about everything the Duke's had to say during that crazy dinner. They walk into their hotel room and Sam lets himself fall into the Queen sized bed while Dean just stands at the foot of his wearing a slight frown.

"So…." Sam's head is slightly cocked as he works out the family tree because he thinks he's got it right but… "Samuel had a half brother, Cassian …and… his grandson, Logan, was Mom's … 2nd cousin? No, uh… 1st cousin, who came back from the war about the same time as Dad and looked them up?"

Dean couldn't say anything about that. His brief stint back in 1973 never involved a long lost relative showing up on the Campbell's doorstep; _'Unless I'm gonna count myself.'_

"Ok, so Logan either doesn't make contact with Samuel-."

"Or the douche told him to get lost." Dean cuts in with a scowl. He's not sorry the old bastard is dead-not after what he did to Sam and he, to _family_… what the hell kind of man was he? And did his Mother know that?

"So Logan gets normal." Sam continues on an exhale of breath. Samuel Campbell is a can of worms they don't need to upend. "Or, at least until he meets his Hunter wife and family. Dean?" he looks at his brother who hasn't moved from the same spot since they arrived. "Cassian gets normal, uh then Logan does too, for a while anyway, and Sloane brings it all back to this."

It's like Hunting is part of who they are at the core and no matter how much any of them run from it…well, they always come full circle in the end.

"They're kids, Sam." Because Dean doesn't want to go there; to admit that he's been feeling like this is the only life they can ever have no matter how much they try to get that apple pie. "Sloane didn't have to end up a Hunter and neither did these three- hell, that goofball, Asher, he's not even a Campbell and there he is running around playing super hero with those two." Its enough to make Dean want to grab them all and shake them until some sort of sense snaps into place and they all realize what kind of screwed up life they've chosen.

"Dean…." Sam wipes both hands over his face. Frustration is getting to them both. "Ok, I'm with you on this because they do seem to be taking all this like its some fun park-whatever, but…I'm pretty sure they were interested in finding out more about Samuel's side of the family." And here Sam wonders why Dean couldn't give them just a little hint of what they'd been like in 1973. He didn't have to say _how_ he knew what a douche Samuel Campbell had been but at least something. Some tidbit, some little piece of information – anything aside from that one night Samuel left them for Crowley and his demons to kill.

"She read the books."

Sam cradles his head in his hands and blows out a heavy breath. "Yeah." He wishes Chuck hadn't written the damn books and wonders if Dean's ever finished reading them all… there's so much in there that Sam wishes could've stayed hidden. He's ashamed -

"She kept quoting us." Dean finally sits down and the frown is leveled at the door. "And that…that…" Dean turns the intense green glare on Sam. "He was laughing."

"…" Sam isn't even going to try and deny Asher's amusement. Not that Tëmpeztrà didn't point it out to them; _'Like we couldn't see it ourselves.'_

The motel room is silent again, the brothers each going over the night in their own minds and all the things this implies but what they both come to in the end is the fact that they have family.

"Cousins." Dean finally says and his voice is sorta quiet. He's afraid to even let what he's feeling register because then he's gonna have to deal with this. The fact they aren't alone…

Sam just nods. They have family and this time there's no Samuel Campbell in the way. There's nothing to stop them from getting to know the trio…

Sam wonders what's going to happen now… but he really hopes this time it's different. He hopes this time they get a chance to know the Duke cousins. Even if Dean can't admit to wanting to get to know them, Sam knows his brother wants- no, Dean _needs_ to feel some sort of familial ties to others. Because they can't always use each other as anchors …

"_We are weakest together."_

**D&W**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Yes, this is only a rough draft. I don't mind criticism since its been like pulling teeth to get anything written. Go on, criticize away because I'm certainly open to suggestions and feel free to point out where it's all gone wrong. <em>**

**_Out of all my unfinished fics; those in notes, outlined, left in limbo somewhere… this was the least troublesome to get finished and it only took me a few months, ha! –that's sarcasm, you know?-_**


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